Carpe Diem, Baby
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: A mysterious death in Iowa lead the boys on a path of discovery neither wants to acknowledge. Set after AHBL 2.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first multi-chapter SN story. If you don't read works in progress, don't worry, it's pretty much done so I should be updating it quickly. If you do like works in progress, have at it!**

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 1**

**Morgan Creek Park, Cedar Rapids, Iowa**

Tommy Sattler ran.

He could hear the pounding of the feet of his brother's best friend, Casey Rowan right behind him, but he didn't take the time to slow up or turn around. Whatever that thing was, it had gotten Zach before any of them had even seen it coming.

He tried not to think of his brother, still lying still and alone back at the park. He has wanted to go back for him and make sure he was okay, but Casey had grabbed him and told him to run. Whatever that thing was that had shot his brother was still there and Tommy was scared. He didn't want to leave his brother, but he wasn't sure what to do and when Casey had yelled run, he ran.

They had just been out to meet girls. Zach and Casey, being in middle school, had set up a meeting with Laura Strong and her friends. Tommy had begged to come along and, as usual Zach had let him. Casey had protested that they couldn't have a little kid with them, that it wouldn't be cool, but Zach had insisted that Tommy was okay and Casey had dropped the argument. The boys had arrived on their bikes well ahead of the midnight rendezvous and had taken to playing tag amongst the dancing weeds surrounding the park. Zach had tripped over something and had dug down into the hard packed dirt, coming up with an old, odd shaped horn.

The horn was yellowed with age and had a small hole at one end, curving slightly and ending in a 3" diameter opening.

Casey had sneered that it was just an old steer horn, trying hard to appear unimpressed with his friend's find. Of course, all the park land had once been open fields, so it wasn't surprising to find remains of long dead animals scattered around, but Zach had insisted that it was a bulls horn from some great, powerful animal, his fertile imagination painting a magical picture for the other boys.

Tommy had been mesmerized by his brother's magnificent story of the great bull and the hunter who had finally brought it down. Zach had always told the best stories, ever since Tommy was little. Especially after Dad died, Tommy could remember Zach whispering bedtime stories, lulling him to sleep when everything got to be too much. When Zach had finished his tale, he held the horn to his mouth and blew into the opening, eliciting a low, eerie hum from his new found treasure.

"Gross!" had been Casey's reaction. "You have no idea where that thing's been!"

The other two boys had begun ruthlessly teasing Casey about being such a squeamish mama's boy when they suddenly heard the distant baying of dogs. Lots of dogs.

As the sounds got closer, the boys began to back towards their bikes, their heads swiveling as the snarling and barking of the dogs quickly closed in around them. A dark figure appeared at the edge of the trees and as the boys turned and raced to the clearing where they'd dropped their rides, a loud, twanging snap was heard followed by a sharp cry and thud. Tommy had stopped and turned, his eyes going wide, the breath freezing in his throat as he saw Zach on the ground, a long shaft that looked just like an arrow, protruding from his back. His head was tilted toward Tommy and the younger boy could see that his brother's eyes were open. But Zach couldn't see him. Somehow, Tommy knew he'd never see anything again.

A sound drew Tommy's attention and he focused on the tree line, his heart crawling into his throat as the dark figure slowly started toward them.

Casey had let out a scream and turned, yelling at Tommy to forget his bike and run. Tommy had taken a last look at his brother as the dark figure drew closer. His heart thudded in his chest as he began to back away. He tripped once, then scrambled to his feet and began to sprint as fast as his legs would carry him back toward the road. Although he was smaller, he quickly caught up to Casey and neither boy dared to stop until they had reached the edge of the park, crossed the road and landed on the steps of St. John's Church.

**Singer Salvage, South Dakota**

Sam Winchester wound his way through the sea of metal, steadfastly working his way toward the tinny sound of Three Dog Night floating across the junkyard. He couldn't help but smile as his brother's voice howled along with the chorus of the classic song coming from the old radio.

"_Ow-a-oo-oo-oo-oo-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah…"_

Sam recognized the song as one of the few classics their dad had joined in on when they were kids. Long night drives in the Impala were some of the best times they had had as a family when he and Dean were little. They had usually cranked the radio, singing as loud as they could, in an effort to help keep their dad alert behind the wheel, until he could find them a cheap motel to bed down for the night. It wasn't a normal way for two kids to grow up, but it was all they'd had. At the time, Sam hadn't known that he was missing out on anything, but as he'd gotten older, the drives had become more tense and filled with resentment. The music had become more of a crutch than anything, filling the space instead of words.

If only he'd known then what he knew now.

"_We're on the road to Shambala….."_

The waves of rusting metal finally parted and Sam was met with the sight of his brother, shirtless, covered in grease, dirt and sweat, leaning under the open hood of his car. Dean's attention was directed toward the back of the engine, where he was straining to tighten something Sam had no desire to understand, but he looked up as he sensed his brother's presence.

"Hey," Sam acknowledged, stopping just shy of the circle of tools that littered the ground around the Impala.

"Hey," Dean responded. He returned his attention to the engine, giving the wrench in his hands a last firm tug before straightening up and turning to face his brother.

Dean had decided after their last case that the Impala was in need of some TLC. Sam, never as in tune with the classic car's shudders and moans like his brother, hadn't noticed anything wrong with the Chevy, but knew Dean's penchant for keeping the car in top shape was one thing that made their lives a little easier. The Impala was their home, and if Dean wanted to work on it until it hummed smooth as silk, so be it. Of course, his attachment to it was sometimes a little creepy, but, Sam had to admit, it was one cool ride.

He'd just never admit that to Dean.

Sam pulled at his thin t-shirt, the heat and humidity of the late summer afternoon causing the fabric to stick to his skin the minute he had stepped out of Bobby's air conditioned house. It was only a window air conditioner, but it managed to keep the lower level pretty comfortable, and, on days like today, Sam was grateful for even the slightest hint of coolness the noisy old box could produce.

His brother, on the other hand, had decided to spend his day in the sweltering heat, buried under the hood of his baby. Sam noticed that Dean had shed his shirt not long after starting the tune-up, and the gray t-shirt now hung from his back pocket, covered with streaks of grease and grime. Apparently, Dean had had a problem distinguishing his wardrobe from the garage rags Bobby had lying around the place. Sam winced as he noted the pink skin already showing on his brother's shoulders and back.

"You could've at least pulled the car into the shade before you tore it apart," he scolded, knowing the discomfort the sunburn would bring his brother later.

Unlike Sam and their father, Dean had been cursed with fair skin and freckles and had always burned easily in the sun. Sam could remember quite a few times when Dean had been in real pain due to a bad sunburn when they were kids. Sunscreen hadn't exactly been on the top of Dad's list of necessities and Dean had eventually taken to wearing t-shirts despite the heat whenever they were outside for long periods of time – except for when the heat had become unbearably stifling. Like now.

Dean squinted up into the cloudless sky, frowning at the sun which had begun it's slow descent behind the rows of old rusted wrecks that lined Bobby's salvage yard.

"It was in the shade, Sammy. Damn sun moved." He gave Sam a grin before pulling his shirt from his back pocket and using it to wipe down the wrench.

Sam shook his head fondly. "Yeah, it sometimes does that, Dean." Dean had a tendency to get completely involved when it came to his car – actually, any car. It was Dean's escape, Sam had his books, with Dean, it was engines. Elbow deep in grease and tools was the one way Dean was able to forget reality, and considering the darkness that composed their reality, who could deny him that?

Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and got back to the business at hand. "Bobby brought back some steaks from town. He's gonna toss 'em on the grill."

Dean nodded, wiping his hands on his greasy t-shirt. "Sounds good. I'm pretty much done here." He looked at Sam with guarded hope in his green eyes. "What about you? Find anything interesting?"

Sam had been spending most of his time between hunts pouring through Bobby's extensive library, trying to learn everything he could about demons. He had promised his brother he would find a way to get him out of the deal he had made with the crossroads demon, and he was determined to keep his promise.

"Demons aren't really fond of fire," he offered with a shrug. So far, his research hadn't really turned up much of anything they hadn't already known about demons, but Sam was just beginning to dig into the tomes of knowledge that cluttered Bobby's house. He was not going to give up. Not ever. Not when there was so much at stake. There was still time. He was going to save Dean – even if he had to march into hell himself to do it.

Dean glanced down at his hands, effectively covering his disappointment. "Fire, huh?" He pursed his lips, considering the information before bringing his eyes back up to meet his brother's. "That's kind of ironic when you think about it." He grinned, and his eyebrows danced, assuring his sibling that his faith was still in tact.

Sam nodded and returned the grin. "Yeah. It won't kill them, but apparently they tend to avoid it. It has something to do with the elements of nature, you know, fire, water, earth, air… but I haven't really found much to go on." Sam's voice held an apology that Dean obviously picked up on.

"We still have plenty of time, Sammy," Dean echoed Sam's earlier thoughts. He tossed the wrench onto a pile and closed the hood of the Impala. Patting Sam's chest as he walked by, Dean grinned up at his taller brother. "Come on, We'd better get washed up before Bobby turns those steaks into charcoal."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 2**

**Singer Salvage, South Dakota**

"I'm so glad you're enjoying my misery."

Sam tried in vain not to smile at the sight of his brother, laid out across the bed on his stomach, his arms held rigidly to his sides, trying not to crease the bright red skin across his shoulders. What had looked slightly pink earlier had developed into a deep scarlet color that looked incredibly painful and threw off enough heat that Sam could feel it halfway across the room.

Sam folded his arms across his chest and gave in to his need to grin. "I did tell you to use sunscreen."

Dean opened an eye and glared at his brother. "Bitch"

"Jerk."

Dean moved his head and moaned at the pain it caused. His shoulders, upper back and neck were all burned and it had become increasingly hard for him to find a comfortable position as the night progressed. Finally he had given up and retired to the back bedroom he and Sam had been sharing while staying with Bobby, hoping that lying still would alleviate some of the discomfort. He had tried to sleep, but the burning across his back had kept intensifying and now he was just plain miserable.

He glanced back at his brother to find him still standing in the doorway of their room, watching him, a crooked grin on his face.

"Will you stop doing that?"

Sam raised his eyebrows innocently. "Doing what?"

"Grinning like an idiot – if you can."

Sam nodded and tried to comply. He really did feel bad for his brother. He hated seeing Dean in pain – even if it was pain of his own making. "I'm sorry, man. I'm not… I was just kind of remembering something."

Dean sighed. He was never sure where Sammy's trips down memory lane were going to take them. He knew he probably didn't want to go there, but at this point, he was willing to try anything to take his mind of the pain. Even a visit to Sammyville. "Remembering what?"

"I was about eight," Sam wandered over to the bed Dean was sprawled across and dropped down to the floor beside it. He leaned back against the mattress and turned his head slightly so he could see his brother. "Dad was working some job in Florida, a water sprite or something I think. You and me, we spent a whole day at the beach and you ended up – well, pretty much like you are now."

"So far, not such a great memory."

Sam rolled his eyes and continued. "I remember Dad putting wet towels on your back to cool you off so you could get some sleep. He wouldn't even let me sleep in the same bed 'cause he was afraid I was gonna hit you in the middle of the night or something." Sam's eyes lost their focus as his memories took hold. "Anyway, I remember waking up later and he was just sitting there with you. God, you were so miserable. Dad just sat there, running his hand through your hair and talking to you in this really soft voice until you fell asleep."

He smiled a sad smile, his voice soft. "Then he just sat back and watched you. I was supposed to be asleep, too, but I was lying there watching him watch you. He just looked so… I don't know. I never saw him like that before. Finally I asked him why you got so burnt in the sun and him and I never even got red." Sam turned toward Dean, happy to see his brother's eyes beginning to lose focus and some of the pain drift away.

"Dad just smiled and said it was because you were so much like mom. I think it was one of the few times he talked about her and didn't look sad."

Dean sighed, his brother's story having relaxed him, lulling him into sleep. "You're like her, too, Sam." His voice was barely a whisper and suddenly his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. He blinked slowly a few times until they finally decided to stay closed. "You have her smile."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam waited a few more minutes until his brother's breathing evened out, assuring him that Dean had finally succumbed to sleep. Hopefully he would be able to sleep through the night without too much discomfort. The sunburn would probably still hurt tomorrow, but Dean could choke down a handful of Advil and tough it out as long as he could get some rest tonight.

Quietly rising from the floor, he pulled off his brother's boots and pulled the cool sheet up over his jean clad legs, covering the lower half of Dean's back, but being careful not to let the sheet touch the irritated red skin of his upper torso. Dean didn't move, his pain and exhaustion finally getting the better of him and allowing him to fall deep into slumber.

With a fond shake of his head, Sam made his way out to the small alcove that served as Bobby's kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. He found Bobby huddled in front of the old computer perched atop his cluttered desk in what should have been the dining room, but served as Bobby's office space. Bobby looked up as Sam perched on the corner of the old desk and sipped at the coffee in the chipped white mug.

"Your brother finally pass out?"

Sam chuckled as he nodded. "Yeah. I think mother nature got the better of him today."

Bobby's grin joined his. "Yeah, but I'll bet that Impala is purring like a kitten."

"Let's hope so." Sam craned his neck to get a look at what was on Bobby's screen. The man may come across as a backwoods hermit, but he was one hell of a researcher and Dean and Sam had had no problems with the older hunter becoming the unofficial leader of their new war against the demon army. Bobby had recruited a few more hunters and managed to parcel out any job that caught his attention. So far, quite a few of the demons that had escaped from the graveyard in Wyoming had been dealt with. Sam just wished they had some idea of how many more had escaped.

"You boys up for a job?"

Sam took another sip of coffee and nodded. "We're always ready, Bobby. You got something?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 3**

**Impala, Interstate 80, Eastern Iowa**

Sam tried to hide his grin as he watched his brother squirm in the driver's seat of his beloved car. Dean had slept for ten hours straight. Half a tube of aloe vera gel had done wonders for his sunburn, and the handful of Advil he had choked down for breakfast had made the pain bearable, but halfway through their drive from South Dakota, the Advil had begun to wear off and now his older, tough-as-nails brother was fidgeting like a five year old who really needed to use the bathroom. The comparison struck a chord of amusement in Sam that he couldn't manage to keep from surfacing.

"Knock it off, Sam."

At Dean's growl, Sam forced the grin from his face, but his eyes couldn't disguise his less than sympathetic reaction to his brother's discomfort.

"What?"

Dean threw him a brief glare before returning his attention to the road. "Don't 'what' me, Coppertone."

Sam snorted in laughter and quickly held up a hand in apology. "I'm sorry, man. I really am. I know you're still in pain, but…"

The older man sighed, a grin teasing the edges of his lips. "Your sympathy is duly noted, dude." He nodded at the stack of papers on his brother's lap as he rolled his shoulders. He winced as the tight, raw skin pulled and repositioned his hands on the bottom of the steering wheel in a vain attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort across his shoulders. "So, what did you and Bobby dig up on this case?"

Sam gave his brother one last grin before turning his attention to the intel on their current job. "Zachary Sattler," Sam read from the printout. "According to the police report, he was found dead in the middle of a park around one a.m. Saturday night."

"Alone?"

"No. There were two other boys with him. His best friend Casey Rowan and his younger brother, Tommy."

Dean glanced at his brother. "His brother see what happened?"

Sam nodded but didn't look up.

"That sucks."

"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat and continued. "There were no wounds on the body. Although the other two boys swore that Zach was shot with an arrow."

"But there was no arrow on the body?" Dean confirmed as he guided the Impala around a minivan.

"Nope," Sam answered with a shake of his head. "There was nothing. No marks at all. The coroner listed the cause of death as unexplained."

"That's weird." Dean frowned. "How old was this kid And what the hell were they doing alone in a park that late at night?"

"Are you kidding? It's Iowa, Dean. Remember the angry spirit at that farm Dad took care of? Those people didn't even lock their doors." Sam shifted through the papers. "Um… here it is. Zach was thirteen. According to his friend, they were at the park to meet up with some girls from school."

Dean smiled sadly. "Boys will be boys."

The younger man nodded in agreement. "Both the other boys reported hearing a lot of barking dogs, and the younger brother said he saw a black clown come out of the trees with a bow and arrow."

"A black clown?" Dean repeated.

Sam shrugged. "That's what's in the report." He couldn't hide the shudder than ran down his spine at the mention of clowns.

Dean chuckled at his brother's reaction. "Don't worry, Sammy. I won't let the clown get you."

"Bite me." Sam tried to ignore his brother. "The cops believe Tommy's claims are trauma induced and they're writing it all off to childish imagination or some kind of coping mechanism for witnessing whatever happened to his brother."

"So let me guess. There's no APB out for Clarabelle and his merry hounds?"

"Nope."

"Friggin' idiots."

Sam grinned at his brother's normal disrespect for local law enforcement. "According to what Bobby and I dug up, this has happened twice before in the last ten years. Each time the initial victim dies without any outward sign of trauma, then the witnesses die of unusual circumstances that are written off as accidental deaths within a few weeks."

"And nobody ever put these all together?"

"None of the victims even remotely resembled each other, dude. An old man, a 40 year old waitress and now a thirteen year old kid." Sam looked up from the research, his eyes uneasy. "Dean, those two kids are the only witnesses. If this pattern holds true…"

"Yeah. They're next." Dean's lips pursed into a frown. "You and Bobby have any idea what we might be dealing with? Maybe another Rakshasa thing?""

Sam shook his head as he stowed the papers under his seat. "I don't think so. The pattern's not right. We need to get some more information, maybe check out the park and see if there's any EMF."

Dean nodded. "Okay, so what first? You wanna check out the scene or talk to the kids?"

"Park," Sam decided after a moment of thought. "We can check for any EMF first. That way we'll know if we're dealing with an actual spirit or some other kind of evil."

The fact that evil came in all sorts of packages – sometimes even human ones – remained unsaid.

Dean tilted his head toward the glove compartment as he pulled off the interstate onto an exit ramp for Cedar Rapids. "Okay. Park it is. Better dig out some I.D.'s in case the local cops are still stumbling around."

**Morgan Creek Park, Cedar Rapids, Iowa**

Morgan Creek Park was nestled on the west edge of the small city of Cedar Rapids. The narrow, asphalt road wound its way through the tall trees and thick foliage, coming to a stop near a large clearing. The gravel parking area was dotted with squad cars and official vehicles as Dean pulled the Impala to a stop behind a black and white and cut the engine. He held out a hand as Sam dropped an ID into it, quickly checking his current alias before nodding to his brother and stepping out of the car.

They approached a uniformed officer on the edge of the clearing and flashed their federal ID's.

"Morning, Officer. Can you tell me who's in charge here?"

The young patrolman's eyes widened at the sight of the federal badges. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat before pointing toward a small group of people near the center of the clearing. "That'd be Detective Gamble, sir."

Dean smiled at the respect in the officer's voice, playing his own part to the hilt. "Thank you, son." Although the cop wasn't much younger than him – probably Sam's age – the authority in Dean's voice carried enough of an illusion of superiority to convince the officer of their credibility. He glanced at Sam, throwing him a glare as the younger brother tried unsuccessfully to hide his amusement at Dean's act. Luckily, the officer didn't notice and Dean nodded his head sharply, silently instructing Sam to follow.

As they made their way around the forensics markers on the ground, Sam casually pulled out the EMF detector and attempted to get a reading. The lights flashed briefly before going dark and he gave Dean a small shake of his head in answer to his brother's unasked question.

Dean simply shrugged and they made their way over to the small group gathered in the center of the clearing.

"Excuse me," Dean spoke up, his voice low and confident. "Which one of you is Detective Gamble?"

A petite, dark haired woman in a navy pant suit stepped forward. "That would be me," she responded with a frown. Despite the suspicious look on her face, she was an attractive woman. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail and her brown blue eyes glanced from one brother to the other as her eyebrows rose in curiosity. "And who are you?"

Dean smiled appraisingly, his own eyes crinkling in appreciation of the woman before him. She had to be around 40, if the slight expression lines on her face were any indication, but she was still striking for an older woman and Dean could respect what it must have taken for a woman with her physical attributes to be taken seriously and rise in the ranks of the testosterone laden police department.

He held up his ID and let his respect and admiration shine through his eyes. "Special Agent Hetfield." He motioned toward Sam who stood a few steps behind him. "This is my partner, Agent Ulrich."

Gamble glanced at the ID and Sam before turning her attention back to Dean. "And just why would the FBI be interested in the death of a 13 year old kid?"

Dean shrugged. "We're investigating a string of deaths with similar circumstances," Dean lied easily. "When this case flashed across the board, we decided we might as well come check it out."

Gamble pursed her lips and studied him for a moment and Dean readied himself for the brush off that they usually were handed when using their federal agent act. Apparently, she wasn't as territorial as most of the local cops they'd run across.

"To tell you the truth, Agent Hetfield," she sighed and brushed her bangs back from her forehead. "I could use all the help I can get." She motioned toward two older men who were kneeling near a brown patch of ground a few yards to their right. "Let me introduce you to my forensics chief and he can run down what we have so far."

She turned away and started across the distance as Dean turned to his brother. Sam threw him a look of surprise at the unexpected cooperation and Dean simply shrugged in return. With a grin he turned to follow the detective.

"Awesome."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 4**

After consulting with the forensics people and an extremely cooperative Det. Gamble, Sam had come to the conclusion that this was one of those police investigations that would go into the 'unsolved' file. He'd also concluded that it was probably the Winchesters kind of gig.

They said their goodbyes, promising to contact the detective if they turned up anything – a promise they would never fulfill – and turned back toward the Impala.

"That was a waste of time," he muttered under his breath as they approached the edge of the clearing and the young officer on duty.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Dean grinned and held up a card. "Got the lovely detective's number."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, she just wanted to give you a way to contact her if we could help her investigation. Strictly professional." Sometimes his brother's ego needed to be checked.

"Strictly professional, huh?" Dean just smirked and flipped the card over. "I'm sure that's why she wrote her home number on the back."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, but he couldn't help but be impressed with his brother's prowess. He stole a quick look back at the detective who, it seemed, was watching them leave – or rather watching Dean leave – with a slight smile on her face. "Dude," he whispered, turning back to his brother. "She's old enough to be –"

"Experienced and interesting," Dean finished for him. He didn't bother to look back, but pocketed the business card. "There is something to be said for older women, Sammy."

Sam could only shake his head. "Whatever." He took a deep breath, frowning as a familiar odor caught his attention.

It took Dean a few seconds to realize his brother was no longer moving and he turned to face his sibling, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Do you smell that?" Sam turned back toward the tree line, his eyes searching the distance as he sniffed the air.

Dean frowned as he, too, tentatively sniffed the breeze. "Sulphur."

"That's just the sewer."

The brothers turned to see the young patrol officer a few feet away.

"The sewer?" Sam responded as if he agreed.

"Yeah," the officer continued. "Happens sometimes out here. The park runs pretty close to the main line, so sometimes you get that rotten egg smell. It's nothing to worry about, though. We're perfectly safe." The officer flashed a grin, obviously happy to be of help to the two federal agents..

"The sewer." Dean nodded, giving his brother a look of amusement. "Of course." He turned to the officer and gave him a quick salute as they resumed their trek back to the car. "Thanks, Officer. Keep up the good work."

The young patrolman beamed. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir."

**Johnson Ave., Sattler Residence**

The Winchesters shifted uncomfortably on the leather couch as Daniel Sattler paced near the doorway of the living room. The parents of the dean boy had seemed reluctant to talk to them until Dean had explained that they had just spoken to the detective in charge of their son's case and they really would like to speak with Tommy to get a first hand assessment of the younger boys experience.

Hoping that the new agents could give them answers the local cops hadn't been able to, they had finally agreed to let them talk to Tommy, although warning them that the boy was very upset and hadn't really been able to speak to anyone about his brother since that first night.

Sam and Dean stood as Erin Sattler descended the stairs, her arms around the shoulder of a young boy with curly blonde hair and freckles. She slowly led him into the living room and stood behind him, both hands on his shoulders in a reassuring gesture of support.

"Tommy," Dan Sattler kneeled down next to his son and motioned toward the two strange men in the room. "These two men are with the FBI. They wanted to talk to you about Zach."

Tommy raised his eyes to look at the two men before him. He seemed to assess them before shaking his head and turning back toward his mother. "They won't believe me."

Dean glanced at his brother before taking a few steps towards the grieving family and kneeling down next to Dan. "Hey, Tommy. My name is Dean." When the boy didn't move, he cleared his throat and continued. "Look, buddy, I know this has all pretty much sucked." He glanced up as Erin made a noise of disapproval at his language. "And I can't promise that I'll be able to make anything better. But I can promise to listen. To whatever you want to tell me, okay?" Dean paused as the young boy peeked out at him and he gave him a warm grin. "What do ya say, huh?"

"You won't make fun of me?"

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. "Nah. Cross my heart."

Tommy took a few moments before slowly nodding his head and allowing Dean to lead him back to the couch.

Sam intercepted the boy's parents, expertly herding them into the adjoining dining room so that his brother could try to get the boy to tell him the truth about what happened the night his brother was killed without the well intentioned interference from the protective adults. They would still be close enough to help their son if things went south, but they were far enough away to give the boy some space to open up to Dean.

Sam had been pretty surprised the first time his brother had shown how easily he related to children, easily being able to get Lucas Barnes to trust him, even though the traumatized kid hadn't been able to open up to anyone since his father's death.

Of course, the more Sam had thought about it, he more it made sense that Dean would be the one that could actually talk to kids. After all, Dean had had plenty of practice his whole life while raising Sam. He knew his brother had layers that they had barely begun to peel away, and he watched with pride as Tommy started his story, trusting that this man would listen as promised.

"So, Tommy," Dean began, his voice soft. "Why were you and your brother at the park that night?"

"Zach and Casey were meeting some girls." There was just enough disgust in the boys voice to make Dean grin.

"Not into chicks, yet, huh?"

Tommy shook his head, but a return grin played on his lips. "But Laura is kinda nice."

"Nice is good."

Tommy nodded in agreement.

"So, Zach let you tag along. He must've been an awesome big brother."

Tommy's smile lit up his face as he remembered his brother. "Zach's the best big brother in the whole world. He never told me to get lost or that I was too little. He always lets me go with him. He says we're best buds."

"He sounds great," Dean snuck a glance at Sam, who was leaning against the open doorway. The younger man grinned shyly and dropped his gaze to the floor as soon as he saw his brother glance his way.

Dean shook his head fondly and turned his attention back to Tommy. "What do you remember at the park, Tommy? Did you see anything or anyone?."

Tommy's smile faded and he looked down at his shoes. "I don't know."

Dean took a deep breath, knowing first hand how hard this had to be for the boy. "You told the police that you saw someone. Can you describe him to me?"

Tommy wiped a tear from his cheek and shook his head. "They didn't believe me." His voice was barely a whisper and Dean leaned forward, his voice lowered to match the kid's.

"I promised to listen. Remember?"

Tommy stared at him for a moment, assessing. Finally, after few moments, he nodded and took a deep breath. "It was dark. We heard these dogs. Lots of them. It was like they were running right toward us, but we didn't see anything." He stopped a moment and glanced toward his parents before continuing. "There was this… black clown."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Black clown?"

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, his voice gaining confidence now that he had someone who was listening to him. "It was really creepy. It was dressed in this clown suit, but its face was all black. The only reason we could actually see it at all was cause of its eyes."

"Its eyes?" Dean narrowed his own. "What about its eyes?"

Tommy swallowed, his fear at the memory apparent. "They glowed red."

Dean's eyes shot to his brother whose casual stance against the doorway tensed.

"Are you sure?"

Tommy nodded, his eyes watering as he looked at the older man. "It killed Zach, didn't it? Whatever it was, it killed my brother and I couldn't help him."

Dean nodded slightly and swallowed the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "I know how you feel, kid."

Tommy shook his head. "No you don't. Nobody does. Grownups keep saying that, but they don't mean it." He wiped his face with the back of his hand and glared at Dean. "They're all lying. Nobody knows how I feel."

"I lost my brother, too." Dean's voice was low as his mind was flooded with the memories of Cold Oak. "He died in my arms." The emotions that surfaced at the thought of feeling the life drain from his brother were not ones he wanted to revisit. Unfortunately, the events were never far from his thoughts, and always flashed through his mind when he closed his eyes.

Tommy sniffled, and stared up at Dean. The boy's expression softened as he read the very real pain in the older man's eyes. "Yeah?"

Dean nodded. His gaze flicked over to Sam, who now stood rigid, his face a mask of concern. "Yeah. I was supposed to watch out for him. I was supposed to protect him."

"Zach always watched out for me." Tommy took a shuddering breath and gave Dean a sad smile. "What did you do about your brother?"

"I found the son of a bitch responsible and I made sure he payed."

Tommy nodded and looked down at his hands for a moment before returning his gaze to the man seated beside him. "Can you do that for Zach?"

Dean saw the hope in the boy's eyes and found himself nodding before he even realized he was doing it. "Yeah, Tommy. I can. But I'm gonna need your help"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 5**

**Ced-Rel Motel, Highway 30, outside Cedar Rapids**

Sam couldn't hide his grin as he watched his brother squirm on the motel bed. After Tommy had given them all the details he could remember about the night of the attack, they had assured the boy and his parents they would do everything possible to figure out exactly what had happened to Zach. The Sattlers had been grateful, finally seeing some hope that the mystery of their son's death could possibly be explained.

After leaving the small family, the Winchesters had found a room in a small motel on the outskirts of the city deciding to research the information they had gotten and try to come up with an idea of what they were up against. While Sam had made himself comfortable at the small desk against the far wall and booted up the laptop, Dean had dug Dad's journal from his bag and settled on one of the double beds. It only took a few minutes for his still smarting sunburn to assert itself, causing the older man to grimace in discomfort.

Slamming the journal onto his thigh, Dean threw his head back against the low wooden headboard and actually growled in frustration.

"You okay there, Sebastian?"

Dean glared at his brother. "Nice, Sammy," he drawled. "Stooping to Disney characters? That's low, dude."

Sam chuckled. He dropped his gaze for a moment and nodded before returning his eyes to his brother, not bothering to hide the amusement on his face. He watched as Dean tugged his flannel shirt off, followed quickly by the dark t-shirt, revealing the raw looking red skin that covered his back and shoulders.

"Dude, you look like a french fry."

"Bite me."

Sam laughed at his brother's mumbled reply. "That was good, Dean. Glad to see your sense of humor is still sizzling."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Lame, Sammy." He stretched out on his stomach and nodded toward the laptop. "Aren't you supposed to be researching instead of trying out your new stand-up routine, geek boy?"

With a grin, Sam returned his attention to the computer and scanned the results of his current search. After a few moments, one entry caught his attention and he clicked the mouse to open the page. Twenty minutes and quite of few mythology sites later, Sam sat back with a small grunt of surprise.

"What?"

Having assumed his brother had drifted off to sleep as he researched, Sam turned toward the bed to see Dean still sprawled face first on top of the comforter, still doing his convincing impersonation of a lobster. Taking pity on his brother's misery, and biting back any remarks about his brother's obvious discomfort, Sam decided to stick with the business at hand.

"I think I know what we're up against."

Dean painfully pushed himself up onto his elbows and gave his brother an inquiring look. "Feel like sharing?"

"I think we're dealing with a Harlequin."

Dean instantly frowned. "Huh? Like those smutty romance novels?"

Sam returned the frown. "What? No. What would romance novels have to do with these deaths?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "But I've seen the covers of those books in the supermarket. Pretty creepy, man." He gave an exaggerated shudder to punctuate his observation and gave his brother a look of utter distaste.

Sam just shook his head wondering at the way his brother's mind worked.

Dean's look grew indignant and he shifted his eyes from his brothers. "I'm just saying…."

Sam waved a hand, effectively ending the stream of the conversation. "Whatever, dude." He turned back to the laptop and clicked onto a website. "I mean a Harlequin. In ancient mythology they were liked to court jesters or buffoons –"

"Clowns?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, sort of." Ever since they had come up against the Rakshasa, Dean had been tormenting him about his reaction to clowns. Sam had hoped they would never come up against anything like that again, but…. He cleared his throat and thrust his fear to the back of his mind. "There's a whole lot of different lore about them – mostly harmless stuff – but check this out."

Dean slowly pushed himself up and settled on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, arms braced on his thighs and squinted at the screen.

"Hellequin?'

Sam nodded. "Yeah. A Hellequin is kind of a… well… dark clown." He watched his brother's eyes widen at the mention on Tommy Sattler's description. "According to legend, it was an emissary of the devil that roamed the country side with a pack of hellhounds chasing damned souls to hell."

"Huh," Dean continued to squint at the screen as his brother continued.

"I also found this."

Sam clicked the mouse a few times and the web page was replaced as a new site loaded onto the screen. He pushed the laptop closer to the edge of the desk and motioned for Dean to read the tagged text.

"The Wild Hunt is often for damned souls who have managed to avoid Hell, but the Devil's emissary can be summoned inadvertently resulting in payment of the soul. Witnessing the Hunt was thought to presage some catastrophic event, usually resulting in the death of all who see. Mortals interfering with the emissary were thought to be kidnapped from their corporeal existence and brought to the land of the dead."

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and leaned back. "Sounds like a good time." He looked back at Sam. "Yeah, okay. It fits. But why did it come after those kids? I can't believe Tommy's brother was damned at the tender age of thirteen."

Sam stared at the screen, his brow furrowed in thought. "Didn't you say Tommy mentioned Zach finding some kind of horn?"

Dean scratched his head as he ran the boy's testimony back through his mind. "Uh, yeah. He said it was just some old cow's horn. That Zach was screwing around and blew threw it, but it didn't really make any noise."

"Maybe it doesn't make any noise to us."

Dean nodded. "You think maybe Zach accidentally summoned this Hellequin thing with it?"

It was Sam's turn to shrug. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Great," Dean sighed. "It's not enough we have hundreds of demons to hunt down and send back to hell, now we gotta find some freaky clown whistle to summon them. Could things get any weirder?" He shook his head and stood, reaching for his t-shirt. "Come on. We need to go take another walk in the park,"

**Morgan Creek Park, Edge of town**

Dean pulled the Impala to a stop near the clearing inside Morgan Creek Park. As the engine rumbled to a stop, both brothers squinted past the crime scene tape that flapped in the slight breeze, momentarily stunned at the sight of Tommy Sattler standing, bathed in the harsh glare of the headlights.

"Dean…" Sam breathed, his attention focused on the large white horn the boy held in his hands.

"Yeah, I see it."

The doors creaked as both hunters emerged from the car. They slammed the doors simultaneously and proceeded forward, ducking under the flittering yellow barrier.

"Tommy," Sam called. He kept his voice soft, trying not to scare the boy who was still gazing at them like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

Despite the casualness of Sam's call, Tommy jumped as if struck and dropped the horn into the soft grass at his feet. He backed away a step, his frightened gaze jumping between the horn at his feet and the two men slowly coming toward him.

As soon as they reached the center of the clearing, Sam kneeled down to retrieve the horn as his brother crouched down in front of the boy, grabbing both his arms before the kid could dart away.

"Tommy, what the hell are you doing out here?" Dean hadn't meant for his tone to be quite so harsh and he cringed inwardly as he saw Tommy chin begin to quiver as he fought to hold back his tears_. Nice move, Winchester. Like the kid isn't scared enough._ He relaxed his hold on the boy, quickly tightening it as the Tommy tried to shake himself free. While it wasn't smart of Tommy to have come out here all alone, it certainly wouldn't be wise to let him take off now. If he was with them, they could watch out for him. Dean did not intend to let the damn demon take another victim, let alone an innocent little kid.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to make his voice as non-confrontational as possible. "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't mean to scare you. But you shouldn't be out here." Tommy wasn't trying to squirm away anymore, and Dean removed his hands from the boy's arms and leaned back on his heels. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I wanted to do what you said?" Tommy's voice shook as the tears began to track down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around his chest and looked up from under long lashes, his eyes boring into Dean's, silently begging for understanding.

"What I said?" Dan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Tommy, what are you talking about?"

"I wanted to do it for Zach. Like you did for your brother."

_I found the son of a bitch responsible and I made sure he paid._

Dean heart skipped in his chest and his shoulder's slumped as his own words echoed in his head. "Damn," he whispered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, understanding all too well why the little boy would risk his own safety to try and avenge his brother. Swallowing hard, Dean stood, carefully avoiding Sam's gaze. He could feel his brother's eyes on him, but Sam's concern was something he didn't think he could deal with at the moment.

He felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the boy before him as his own emotions from the past few months surfaced. He placed a hand on the kid's shoulder and squeezed. "It's okay, kiddo." Tommy looked up with teary eyes and took a step closer. He leaned against Dean, his head tilting to lye against the man's leather jacket.

Dean gave Tommy an awkward hug, looking up to see Sam grinning at them. Dean rolled his eyes and motioned toward the piece of bone in his brother's hand. "At least we have the horn. As soon as we come up with a way to toast this sucker, we'll be able to give it a call."

Sam's expression froze, his eyes going wide as his attention shifted from his brother to a spot directly between them and the Impala. His face paled in the harsh lights of the Impala's beams and he thrust his chin in the direction of the vehicle.

"Uh, Dean," Sam whispered, his voice so low it was barely discernable in the stillness. "I think we're too late."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 6**

**Morgan Creek Park, edge of town**

Dean turned, his eyes immediately falling on the shadowy figure standing between them and the car. Even though the Hellequin stood directly in the line of the Impalas headlights, the demon threw no shadow. Rather, the intense light from the beams seemed to be swallowed up by the entity, adding to the unnatural darkness of the figure. The glowing ruby eyes shone out of the black face, intently studying the trio in the center of the clearing. It didn't move, but suddenly held an ebony bow in its hands, one red tipped arrow already notched into the weapon.

"Shit!"

Dean pushed Tommy toward Sam, simultaneously pulling his Desert Eagle from beneath his jacket. "Get the kid out of here, Sam! Go!"

Sam grabbed the boy and took off across the clearing in the opposite direction of the Impala, his long legs eating up the ground.

"The church!" Tommy screamed from his position under Sam's arm. "It didn't follow us to the church!"

Sam shifted direction slightly, remembering the small chapel located across the main road at the entrance of the park. He jumped as the sound of Dean's pistol fire reached his ears, but didn't slow down, knowing the best way to help in this situation was to get Tommy clear of the danger.

"Sam! Down!"

Without hesitation, Sam threw himself to the ground, curling his body around the small boy in an effort to protect him from the immediate threat. He felt as well as heard the arrow slice through the air above him, cracking ominously as it embedded itself into a tree a few yards from their position. He raised his head and chanced a look back as Dean's gun responded to the attack.

"Go, Sam! Go!"

Sam was up and running before Dean finished the command, grabbing Tommy and throwing him over his shoulder in an effort to pick up speed. As he hit the road at the edge of the park, he heard a grunt of pain behind him, immediately followed by a string of curses and the rapid fire of Dean's gun.

"Dean?" He slowed and turned to check on his brother. Dean was on his knees, his right arm raised toward the demon.

"I'm fine," the older man huffed without sparing his brother a glance. He lifted his left arm with a grimace and braced the pistol as he fired off two more rounds. "Just get the kid to holy ground!"

Sam nodded and quickly crossed the road, rushing across the asphalt parking lot and gently depositing Tommy on the steps of the small church. He turned in time to see his brother barrel across the lot, stopping as soon as he reached the cement walkway directly beneath entrance. Sam joined him at the base of the steps, two sets of eyes scanning the shadows, the only sounds their labored breathing loud in the still night air.

The Hellequin stepped from the shadows of the trees on the far side of the road and both brothers tensed, guns raised toward the threat.

"It can't come over here, right?"

Sam mirrored his brother's defensive position and shrugged in response, his eyes narrowed at the dark entity across the road. "Let's hope not.

The demon's eyes glowed bright in the dim moonlight, it's gaze fixed on the brothers as they stood defiantly in front of the little boy. Slowly the Hellequin lifted an arm and extended one long, gnarled finger in the direction of the Winchesters.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean taunted under his breath at the implied threat. "Get in line, bitch."

As suddenly as it appeared, the Hellequin was gone, leaving the two hunters once again scanning the darkness. After a few minutes, Sam relaxed his stance. He glanced at his brother, noticing for the first time the dark streak of blood across his bicep.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean responded automatically. He was still standing, and in the Winchester book of injuries, if you were still on two feet, it was all good. He lowered his gun, wincing as he glanced down at his arm. He flexed his bicep a few times before returning his eyes to his brother. "Just a scratch," he answered Sam's unasked question. "You?"

"I'm good," Sam responded. He nodded his head toward Tommy who had crept up behind them, his small hand now attached the hem of Sam's jacket. "We're good."

Dean nodded and turned his attention to Tommy, who shifted a bit closer to him and gazed up at his rescuers.

"Is it gone?" Tommy's voice was barely a whisper, his fear evident in his large, dark eyes.

"Yeah," Dean sighed, giving Tommy what he hoped was a confident smile. "It's gone for now."

"But it'll come back."

It was more a statement than a question and neither brother could bring themselves to contradict the kid.

"It'll be back," Sam responded, his gaze locked with his brother's. "But next time, we'll be ready."

After waiting nearly an hour on the steps of the church, the trio cautiously made their way back across the road, stepping onto the park grounds as the first tendrils of light began to break over the horizon. Making it back to the Impala unscathed, the Winchesters first delivered Tommy back to his frantic parents who were extremely relieved and grateful to the two 'agents' for finding and returning their missing child.

Assuring the Sattlers that Tommy was okay, simply grieving for his brother and trying to find a way to feel closer to him, Dean and Sam headed back to the motel to try to come up with a plan to eliminate the Hellequin before it could carry out it's quest.

After hours of intense research, Sam sighed in frustration and shoved the laptop back against the wall as he rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his weary eyes.

"Anything?"

"Nothing." Sam sat back in the chair, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "There's a ton of lore about the Wild Hunt, but I can't find any reference to the Hellequin ever having been stopped from taking a soul." He turned to face his brother who was stretched out on the bed, his back against the headboard, leafing through their father's journal. "I can't find anything, Dean." Sam's voice betrayed his disappointment. "And if we can't find a way to stop this thing…"

"Yeah, I know. Tommy's as good as dead." Dean tossed the journal down and rubbed a hand down his face. "So let's look at this from another perspective." He scooted up until he was perched on the foot of the bed and leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. "This thing is basically just a demon, right?"

Sam snorted at the description. "_Just_ a demon?"

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. "Just… you know what I mean."

Sam chuckled but nodded his head. "Yeah. Technically it's an emissary of the devil, but I guess that translates into 'just a demon', so yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Thank you, Webster." Dean stood and started pacing slowly. "So if it is just your garden variety demon, how do we go about killing it?"

Sam sat back and watched his brother pace. "We shoot it with the Colt, but since that's not an option…"

"We find some other way to dispose of it." Dean stopped and turned toward his brother. "You said something a few days ago about demons not liking fire? Something about the elements of nature?"

"Yeah, but I still haven't put it all together, Dean. I mean, fire didn't seem to bother the Yellow Eyed Demon. It seemed to thrive in fire."

Dean nodded, his lips pursed in thought. "But we know we can use the spell in Dad's journal to send it back to hell if we can contain it, right?"

"A devil's trap will contain it, and the exorcism won't kill it but it'll send it back, which should be enough to save Tommy unless someone else summons the damn thing. But how exactly are we going to hide a devil's trap in the middle of a clearing in a wide open park?"

Dean's eyes lit up in a way that had always made Sam's skin crawl. "I've got an idea,"

**Morgan Creek Park, Edge of Town**

"Do you really think this is gonna work?" Sam closed the journal, leaving a finger in the page to mark his spot.

Dean shrugged and shook the last drops from the red gas can before he tossed it off to his side. "Honestly? I have no idea, but…"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam held up his hand to stall his brother's comment. "I know. I'm not allowed to say no –"

"If you don't have a better idea." Dean finished for him, flashing his brother a smug grin. "See, Sammy. The rules aren't really so hard once you get the hang of them."

"Ha, ha." Sam shook his head, watching in amusement as his brother moved to the center of the clearing and began to spin slowly, his eyes searching the edge of the tree line for any movement. After a few minutes of silence, Sam cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. "So….. what now, genius? Doesn't look like your damned soul mojo is working." He made a show of leaning from one direction to the other holding up his free hand to indicate the lack of any demonic presence.

Dean looked momentarily surprised at his brother's flippant mention of his current soul status, but quickly covered by leaning forward and wrapping his hand around the ivory horn at his feet.

"Then it's a good thing we have our very own creepy clown whistle, huh?" He grinned at Sam's glare at the mention of clowns and brought the horn to his lips, pausing as he waited for his brother to indicate that he was ready.

Sam took a deep breath and slowly released it before nodding, indicating that he was as ready as he would ever be. With an answering nod, Dean took his own breath and puffed out his cheeks as he forced the air through the tip of the horn, eliciting a low, barely discernable squawk. The sound was –

"Impressive." Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm, his lips twisting in a grin as his brother frowned and pulled the horn from his mouth, gracing it with a look of disdain. Dean dropped the horn, nodding in agreement.

"Apparently what they say is true; it really isn't the size of the horn –"

"Dean."

"What? I was just saying –"

"Dean!"

"What?"

Ignoring the aggravated response, Sam nodded toward the open space behind Dean, his eyebrows raised in warning as his hands slowly raised the journal.

"Oh." Dean's eyes widened in understanding. He waited until Sam had found the banishment spell in the journal and nodded slightly to indicate all lights green. "Okay then…" He took a deep breath as he steeled his nerve, squared his shoulders and slowly turned to face the demon.

The Hellequin stood in the shadows of the trees, it's dark features all but obscured by the blackness of the night. It's blood red eyes glowed from the darkness and Dean could swear he saw the damn thing smile as it began to silently move toward him.

TBS


	7. Chapter 7

**Carpe Diem, Baby**

**Chapter 7**

**Morgan Creek Park, Edge of town**

"Bring it on, Sparky."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's customary bravado, holding his breath as the Hellequin closed the distance. The entity moved as if floating, shifting from one spot to another with out seeming to physically take a step. As it emerged from the shadows, Sam could make out the Hellequin's malicious smile, its red eyes glowing malevolently from its ashen face.

As it slowly approached his brother, Sam shifted from one foot to the other, raising the journal to his face. He glanced at the incantation, his finger poised below the start, his breath steady in his chest as he prepared to begin the recitation at his brother's command.

Dean could feel his heart beating in his chest, the adrenaline rush causing his pulse to race as the demon shifted to a space directly in front of him. He backed away quickly, a bit surprised at the Hellequin's sudden shift in position, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to regain some distance between himself and the demon.

The Hellequin stopped, its amusement apparent as its eyes locked on Dean's retreating form. It raised an arm, again pointing an accusing finger at the hunter.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled. "You're a big bad demon. I'm shakin' in my boots here." Slowly, he reached into his pocket and extracted his silver lighter. Flipping open the top, he thumbed the wheel, his dancing eyes never leaving the glowing red orbs before him. "How about we make you feel at home, huh?"

He tossed the lighter onto the ground, grinning as the gasoline doused grass caught fire. The flame quickly spread in all directions, the unmistakable form of the Devil's Trap taking shape surrounding the Hellequin.

The demon dropped its arm and slowly turned, the expression on its face no longer one of amusement.

"Sammy! Read fast!" Dean backed away as the flames began to dance higher. "I don't think this is gonna burn for long!"

Sam cleared his throat and began to recite the Latin incantation in a strong voice.

"Shit!"

Sam hesitated, momentarily looking up, his eyes going wide as the ebony bow suddenly appeared in the demon's hands. The entity pulled back on the string, a menacing ruby arrow already notched into the bend of the weapon.

Sam's breath hitched as the Hellequin chose its target.

"Dean!"

"Keep reading!"

Sam took a deep breath and quickly resumed the incantation, his eyes darting back and forth from his father's blocky handwriting to his brother's standoff with the demon.

The Hellequin let go of the arrow, a hiss sliding through the night air as the weapon sped toward its target. Dean dove to his right, feeling the arrow slice through his jacket close to his side. He tucked his body as he landed, rolling back to his feet to face the demon. Pulling his pistol from his belt, he squeezed off a shot, knowing it wouldn't do much good against the entity, but comforted by the familiar kick of the big gun in his hands.

As the flames began to die, the Hellequin pulled another arrow from thin air, letting it sail toward the hunter again. Dean threw himself to the ground and rolled behind an old tree stump, his heart beating hard against his breastbone, his breath rushing out in a gasp as the stump abruptly stopped his roll along the soft ground. A loud 'thwack' indicated that the arrow had found its mark – though luckily not the target the demon had intended. Dean scrambled to his feet, his eyebrows rising at the sight of the arrow embedded in the front of the stump he had just emerged from behind.

As Sam's voice rose in the conclusion of the incantation, the Hellequin's stance faltered and the ebony bow disintegrated into a fine ash. As the last words of Latin were spoken aloud, the demon shuddered, convulsing in an inhuman way, its red eyes glowing bright. As the flames of the Devil's trap faltered, a horrible screeching sound began to build from the center of the clearing.

Sam quickly closed the journal and hurried to his brother. The Winchesters watched silently as the Hellequin's shadowy exterior cracked, and an eerie red light began to seep out from the crevices. Suddenly the entire entity exploded into a ball of fiery red ash, causing the dying embers of the Devil's Trap to shoot skyward before suddenly extinguishing itself in a dark cloud of smoke.

Sam lifted his head from its position on the grass. He had grabbed his brother as soon as the Hellequin started to crack, and thrown them both to the ground behind the old tree stump. He had no idea what would happen once the demon started to disintegrate, but knew that whatever did happen probably wouldn't be good.

"Get off me!"

Sam scooted back, allowing his brother to roll the opposite direction and push himself to his knees. Dean looked at the shape of the Devil's trap burned into the grass of the clearing, the fine pieces of scattering ash the only remaining sign of the Hellequin.

"Huh," he huffed as he drew himself into a standing position. "That was cool."

Sam pushed himself up as well, moving to stand beside his brother. "Think it's really gone?"

Dean sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, his lips turning down into a frown as the sunburn that had plagued him since leaving Bobby's reaffirmed itself. "Ow."

Sam stepped back and ran a concerned eye over his brother. "You okay? You get burned?"

"I'm fine, Sam." He grinned, his eyes lighting up in their usual after-hunt-glow. "Nothing a nice lady detective and a little aloe vera can't cure."

**Impala, Highway 30 West, Next Morning**

Sam glanced over at his older brother, noting the pursed lips and the way his brows were pulled together over his eyes. Having lived in each other's pockets for over two years, they had both become quite attuned to the other's moods and Sam quickly deduced where his brother's thoughts were at the moment.

"You think Tommy's gonna be okay?"

Dean continued to stare out the front windshield, but nodded slightly at his brother's question.

"He'll be fine." Dean's voice was rough as he considered the young boy who's world had been so drastically shattered by the death of his brother. "Kids are resilient."

"Yeah." Sam watched the scenery fly by for a few moments before voicing what was on his mind. "I guess I never really realized what it was like for you. Back in Cold Oak… watching me…" His voice faltered, and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. "I don't really remember it – I mean actually dying – but I do remember you were there. And I can remember the look in your eyes."

"I still see it." Deans voice was barely a whisper. He didn't turn his eyes from the road, but his shoulders slumped a fraction as if the weight of the world had just settled a little heavier on them. "Every time I close my eyes, Sammy, I see you die. I screwed up and you died."

Sam winced at the pain in his brother's voice. "You didn't screw up, Dean. You saved me like always. I'm right here. We have right now. It's enough."

Dean laughed softly, his eyes sliding sideways to glance at his brother. "Kind of a seize the day thing, huh?"

"Something like that." Sam was encouraged to finally get a reaction from the older man.

Dean shook his head, his grin gone as quickly s it had appeared. "But I'm still gonna end up hurting you, Sammy. I made that deal 'cause it was the only thing I could think to do. It was the only way I could fix what I screwed up. And now…"

"I told you before, Dean. It won't come to that. I'll find a way." Sam placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed confidently.

"And if you don't?"

"I've still got the Colt. I'll just march into Hell myself and get you back."

"You try and I'll kick your ass."

Sam slapped his brother's arm and lowered his hand back to the seat of the Impala, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Then I guess you'll have to kick my ass. But I'd rather you help me kick Hell's ass."

Dean glanced sideways at the younger man, his green eyes filled with a mixture of emotions. "The Winchester brothers against the denizens of Hell, huh? Hardly sounds fair when you put it that way."

Sam chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but that's their problem."

"I'll get it, mom!"

Tommy Sattler opened the door as the UPS man set a brown paper wrapped box at the foot of the door.

"Whoa! Hello there, young man. Got a package for a Thomas Sattler."

"That's me."

The UPS man held out the small electronic pad. "Well then sign right here."

Tommy scratched his name on the screen and picked up the package, stepping back into the house and closing the door behind him.

Rushing to his room, his curiosity got the better of him as he dropped the box onto the floor and ripped through the brown wrapping. Pulling off the lid, he gasped as he looked down into the box, his eyes wide at the sight of the broken cows horn lying scattered in pieces inside. A piece of paper sat folded on top of the horn and Tommy picked it up with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the words written on the hotel stationary.

_It's done._

_Zach can rest in peace._

_Live for the both of you._

_Dean_

Tommy Sattler breathed a sigh of relief. The little boy sat back against the foot of his bed, buried his face against his arms and cried.

The End


End file.
